


Karl's Collection

by Combination_NC



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Circle Tower, Circle of Magi, Kinloch Hold, M/M, Rite of Tranquility, The Gallows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 04:39:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Combination_NC/pseuds/Combination_NC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short stories about Karl, mostly written for Tumblr prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Keeping Secrets

“You know it, don’t you? His name?” Jowan asked as he caught up with Karl, struggling to keep even steps with the taller man.

“Hm?”

“Anders! That is not his real name. But he told you, didn’t he?”

Karl nodded a yes, and smiled so briefly that Jowan could not be completely sure if he had imagined it or not.

“Well then, tell me!”

Now that was definitely a smile, and a fond one at that. “Can’t,” Karl said. “It is a secret.”


	2. Acorn Adventures

They were curled up in the lower bunk together, Anders on his back with his head in Karl’s lap and with Karl’s fingers in his hair, gently detangling it only to make new tangles afterwards. Anders sighed, close to being content. He hated the tower, but he had missed this.

“The worst part was the acorns,” he said, halfway through his second retelling of his most recent escape, mentally adding _besides being caught_.

“…Acorns?”

“They make the _worst_ sound when you step on one. It’s hard to explain, it’s really something you have to _experience_ to fully understand. You should come with me, next time. I’ll show you.”

He might say it with a mischievous smile, but he meant it with all his heart. Karl should come with him.


	3. Wrath

Carver watched in horror as the apostate let himself be consumed by a blue fury, moving towards the templars with unnatural speed, shouting with a voice not from _this_ side of the veil.

He had spent his whole life around mages, seen magic for as far back as he could remember – but it had never been anything like this, not even close. Bethany had never wielded her powers in anger, and neither had his father even though the man had experienced many things that could have given him reason to.

Not even Garrett would make flesh melt beyond recognition, rip limbs from armoured bodies and toss them aside as if they did not weight anything at all, or as if the action did not _mean_ anything at all.

When the apostate – the _abomination_ – returned to himself, the way he touched and looked at the branded man made Carver avert his gaze, feeling like an intruder. He understood that anger and desperation better, then.


	4. Before The Rite

This was it. The bastards had even gagged him, to make sure he would not bite his tongue off to escape in the only way left to him now. They needed him alive and willing to provide them with information, everything he knew about Anders and his whereabouts, the rebellion, any and all plans.

They were going to make him Tranquil to make him talk.

He would retain all his memories, but none of the feelings they held. His memories in an otherwise empty shell, his soul gone along with his magic.

He doubted that he would be able to retain his loyalty to Anders after the rite had been completed. They had attempted to make him talk, make deals, bribe him with promises of safety and of transfer to another Circle. All he had to do was tell them what they wanted to know. As if they _actually_ thought he would ever consider doing such a thing.

Forcing to keep his back straight and head held high, he stared at the brand with all the defiance he had left in him.

There were things more important than his own life.

His last thought as _himself_ was one of hope; hope that at least Anders would be able to get away and not fall for the trap in store for him.


	5. First Impressions

Many words runs trough Karl’s head the first time he sees Anders. _Angry_. He looks much younger than Karl himself but has a templar at each side, both with a malignant grip on his arms. It looks like it hurts, but even if it does, the blond mage does not let it show. He only glares at the templars with what must be all the teenage viciousness he can muster. _Enraged_. His accent is so thick that the templars must have a difficult time understanding the insults he hurls at them, which can only be a good thing. It is an Anders accent, like the one Karl himself once had. _Anders_.

Their eyes meet for a short moment as they drag him through the hallway. Honey coloured, and defiant. _Resolute_.

And most importantly, _not defeated_.


	6. Anders VS Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt by an anonymous Mythbusters fan!

“Who’s a good kitty, Mister Wiggums? You are! _Yes_ you _are!_ ” Anders cooed at the cat in that silly voice of his that he kept reserved for fluffy animals. Karl sighed. They must look ridiculous, he with half of Anders in his lap, and Anders with all of Mister Wiggums on his chest. Scratching him, shedding hairs everywhere. He had hoped for some alone time with Anders, and then the cat came along. Anders could never resist a cat.

 _No, bad kitty_ , Karl thought to himself. _Bad._

It was nice to see Anders in a cheerful mood, though.

“I wonder if there is a spell to make you bigger… if I find one, will you attack the templars for me, then?” The cat meowed, the sound open for any interpretation of Anders’ choosing. “Oh! _Yes you will!_ Of _course_ you will, you will maul them _all_. Good kitty!”

Cheerful, yet morbid. It was good enough.

Anders let his attention wander from Mister Wiggums for a moment, to look at Karl with sudden seriousness.

“I want a spell like that. To make him big enough to ride, right out of here.”

Karl bent down to kiss his forehead. “I know,” he said. “Reality does not work like that, though.”

“Pah. I reject your reality! I will substitute it with my own. I will –“

Mister Wiggums choose that moment to move, and sit on Anders’ head instead of his chest. Karl reached out to scratch him behind an orange ear.

“ _Good_ kitty.”


	7. For the love of beards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, if you joke about beard porn as much as I do...

Anders had watched Karl’s beard take form over the course of several weeks. He had tried many different styles and lengths, carefully trimming it in front of a small mirror. It was a mark of adulthood, he had explained, one that had nothing to do with Circles or Harrowings, and something they could not take from him. Anders liked the sound of that; a subtle rebellion, and something that was his own. His own attempts had not been very impressive thus far, but Karl’s was. Oh, Karl’s was.

He buried his fingers in it, pressing kisses on the hair covered upper lip, using sloppy kisses as an excuse to let his tongue brush against more of it, eventually daring to part the hairs with the tip of his tongue, tasting the skin underneath. He could  _feel_  Karl smile.

“What does it taste like?” The smile could be heard in his voice, as well.

Anders pressed a kiss against his bearded chin. “Rebellion.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for a picture made by pollencount.

Karl did not really react when he saw Anders on the floor in front of a heap of familiar-looking cloth, hacking away at it with a table dagger.

He had expressed his displeasure for the apprentices’ robes on several occasions, after all.

It was not until he brought out the needle and thread that Karl started to wonder.

“I am  _improving_  them,” Anders replied with the tone of someone who has to explain something perfectly reasonable for the tenth time. “Did you think I was just destroying them?”

Karl felt it best not to answer.  
  


“They are  _much_  better this way,” Anders insisted in the morning as he put a feather in his ear to complete the look. Feathers were  _stylish_. If only there had been enough of them to cover his shoulders with… but he was rather fond of this bare-shoulders look, as well.  _Very_ daring. He did a little twirl to show it off properly.

Karl rested his forehead in his palms and counted to ten.  
  


Their group drew quite a few looks on their way to the dining hall. It was only a matter of time before one of the templars stopped them.

“What?” Anders said with false, definitely  _false_  innocence. “These  _are_ the standard robes!”

Karl’s left palm connected to his forehead as if by its own will.


End file.
